


The Riches we Seek

by holyfant



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Tumblr Prompt, short fic meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyfant/pseuds/holyfant
Summary: Always on the road, always in-between.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [randomsociopath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomsociopath/gifts).



> Written for flyingchancla/randomsociopath's prompt on tumblr for the short fic meme: Hades/Persephone, partners in crime.

One hand on the wheel, he’s beginning to think about dumping the car; they’ve been using it for four days, and that’s as long as he’s comfortable with. There’s been no police since they lost them in the previous city – the dusty road is empty ahead and behind, but he’s wary, and he knows to trust the itching in his bones. They’ll check into a motel in the evening, around dusk, and in the morning he’ll steal a new car before the light breaks over the desert in fingers of gold.

 

“You’re worried,” she says; it’s the first thing she’s said since they left the diner where they had waffles and syrup and where they watched the news to see if they were still an item on it, seven days after the heist.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Her bare feet are up on the dashboard; she’s still counting money, but not now with the frantic pleasure of before but with a slow and lazy sensuality. There are dollar bills all over her lap. He glances over at her ankles, the fine lines of the daffodil tattoo that grows up the side of her calf. She’d paid the tattoo guy with a kiss, knowing how jealous it would make him, and when they’d fucked later in the backseat of the car – not this one, the previous one, with the leather seats that stuck to their skin – she’d cackled at his unspoken anger and locked her ankles behind his hips, welding him to her.

 

“You’re fine, but you’re worried.” She sits up, scattering money. She folds away her legs like a foal. “Don’t deny it.”

 

He can’t hold onto her; he’s only half there, his thoughts are jumping away from him like frightened children, and the days are lengthening. He dreams at night of the people he has killed: the way he liked it. The way he watched as something left their eyes, the intimacy of it. “Darling,” he says, “you know what driving does to me.”

 

“If only you’d let me drive for a while.” She sinks into a familiar thoughtful silence: he has quietly catalogued them, the myriad ways in which she doesn’t speak, and he knows them inside out.

 

“You’d crash the car into a ditch just to get some excitement.”

 

She grins and runs her fingers through her hair, electric red like the sun setting huge over the desert. “Well, we could both use it.”

 

Perhaps she doesn’t know it yet, but he knows that she’s leaving him, not today but sometime soon, when she looks out of the car window and finds that it has crystallised overnight, fogged over with the breath of some deity. How he knows this he can hardly say.

 

“There’s a bank in the next town,” he says. “What do you say? Tomorrow, after we switch cars. My treat.”

 

She claps her hands like a child. “Baby,” she says, “you _spoil_ me.”


End file.
